


The Client

by Book_of_Kells



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fígrid February, Small Business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_of_Kells/pseuds/Book_of_Kells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professional vs. Unprofessional</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Client

**Author's Note:**

> Hair Salon AU
> 
> So put me on a highway and show me a sign  
> And take it to the limit one more time.
> 
> ~ The Eagles - Take it to the limit ~

Thursdays were normal slow. People were at the low end of their paycheck, or spending the last forty bucks in the account on appletinis at their favorite bar. That was the norm, though Great Clips of Laketown did steady business. Kids still need their hair cut, like the one her coworker Nerya was trimming or a shaping up before the weekend for the teen crowds. And it was raining, nobody did a lot of business on a rainy day.

Sigrid brushed back a stray lock of hair as she swept up the last customer’s. Deep wine colored clumps were heavy against her broom, at least three pounds of weight that woman lost. It wasn’t often a female changed her style so drastically from long hair down the back to a strait bob at her chin. Sigrid thought a man might have something to do with it but the lady was quite tight lipped about the situation.

The salon was owned by the annoying Mr. de Masters, current mayor of their lovely lakeside hamlet. The rent wasn’t outrageous but it was becoming more of pain when he sent his ‘assistant’ Alfrid to collect the booth rent at the beginning of each mouth. The nasty mouth breather had the gall to say Sigrid could forgo her booth rent if she rode him once a week. The rejoinder of her being more choosy about her mounts had earned her a disgusted expression. Sigrid hadn’t busted her ass but in college, then another two years in specialty summer programs at Paul Mitchell to be a head shop whore. Well, at least not yet.

Catching sight of the framed certificate as she dumped the hair, it brought a smile to her face. It was a sense of accomplishment that Sigrid had gotten as far as she had. It was harder with working part time and trying to help out at home with her siblings. But she loved doing hair, seeing people smile when the style fit them and brought out that inner beauty to shine for the world. Her dream was to do hair for the models in New York or Milan.

“Sigrid! Hey, Sig, can you take another?” A voice snatched Sigrid from her daydream, the salon came back into focus as the current reality instead of the catwalks of Paris. Nerya was busy cutting a blue hair from near the Lakeside, trying to shape up the teased helmet the client always favored.

“Yeah sure.” Looking up, Sigrid noticed a guy as he finished signing in with the cashier.

He wasn’t tall, probably not as tall as her. Dressed in loose black jeans, he had an ambling walk that revealed the jeans were actually more gray than black from repeated washings. A long sleeve shirt was darker at the shoulders where he had been caught in the downpour, evidence that he hadn’t been waiting long. He was casual with his long blond hair that corkscrewed in a riot all over his head.

The point of his jaw was more angular than what might be considered handsome but the beard trimmed close covered up the worst of it. Darker blond than his hair, it gave him color where the skin on his face was pale. He didn’t get out much, there wasn’t a lot of sun in his daily life. The odd thing was with those full lips. They drew the eye and make her wonder about how they would feel on hers. A deep seated fantasy of a warm wet tongue against her own on cold day smacked her with a resurgent flux of déjà vu.

Sigrid felt she knew him, couldn’t almost breathe with the awareness that she couldn’t place. Sapphire eyes danced at her, daring and intelligent. Life was contained in those cerulean depths, a deep ocean that could drown her with vast pleasure. Sigrid plastered a smile on her face, though she ground her molars in annoyance. It was frustrating that she couldn’t put a name to the interesting cutie standing before her. The slow perusal wasn’t lost on him, those full lips quirked into a half smile that left her _almost_ breathless.

“Hi! I’m Sigrid. I’ll be your stylist.” The grip on her the broom was probably white knuckled at this point as she pried her fingers, one after another away from the wood to indicate her chair. “Please, have a seat.”

“I’m Fili.” He twirled the rotating seat around, sliding into the vinyl cushion.

Getting him settled was a priority, getting herself under control was _mandatory_. She couldn’t allow herself to be unprofessional. It would cost her this job if there was a complaint and the loss of income would be painful to her family. Alfrid would chunk her out happily, probably call the cops to add insult to injury. Whipping the black cape around him, Sigrid tucked a towel in the back before she snapped the enclosure. Stepping on the back pedal of the chair, she raised him up a foot so she wouldn’t have to stoop when she got going. Her body relaxed as it performed the tasks from memory, getting him in position of her choice for the next fifteen to thirty minutes. His hair was long and probably looked like hotter than the sun when he was naked. _Wait naked_?!

“So, what would you like?” The grin felt genuine for a change, even if her cheeks were on fire from her embarrassing thoughts. It wasn’t as mechanic like it was before he sat down.

Sigrid finger combed his hair from the sides to the crown, sliding gently in case there were unseen tangles. Curls of different lengths sprang about her fingers, thinned a little at the sides and the back of the head to cut down on the weight. Someone had tried to tame the disorder once, but hair grows, and his resembled a bush. The trembling locks were soft and natural, winding themselves around her hands with the least suggestion.

A soft moan drew her attention back to her client in the chair. A jolt ran through her body, bright as an electric charge from a sticking her finger in a wall socket. His eyes were closed with those delicious lips slightly parted. He was enjoying her fingers working his scalp as much as she liked doing it. The tactile reaction soothed him to an almost boneless state, the sex face as Nerya liked to call it. The word ‘sex’ so close to him had her clearing her throat in response, removing her hands from him quickly as if burned by the experience. Dreaming blue eyes opened with a tender glazed expression.

Confusion pinched his face as he stared first at the mirror’s reflection then finding her image higher than his own. He cleared his own throat and shifted in the chair. “Sorry. I need something that says, I’m smart and capable.”

“I’m sure you are those things already.” She couldn’t look him in the face when she said it, mostly grabbing a spray bottle of water and clips to section off the hair.

“You would be surprised.” He grumbled as he bloused up his cape. The morose expression spoke volumes that she had struck a nerve. “Take as much off as you like.”

His hair was already damp, though Sigrid needed a distraction from her racing thoughts. _You don’t know him_ , she chanted mentally. Taking the spray bottle, she liberally misted his hair until it dripped. Normally, the stylists didn’t wash the guys’ hair, thinking that they weren’t interested in the full treatment. But with the sheer amount Fili possessed, it probably wasn’t a bad idea. His hair had been washed in the last hour, notes of sandalwood and mint teased her nose the more she shifted the wet strands.

Sigrid dung into the scalp, trying to get an inspiration. Concentrating, she divided his head in sections, twisting back the partitioned hair and clipped it against his head. His scalp was clean, no dandruff or head lice, so using the clips was of little concern. The mop of hair he sported looked like it might have been a mullet at one point but even that had gotten away from him. Once it was sectioned at the crown, she put a one guard on her trimmer to cut down the sides and back.

Fili never said anything, not will she cut away probably two years of growth from his head. It would feel weird for him the next few days, lighter and free to couple with the endorphins she was releasing from the scalp. The more she reduced the more she could see the blond was natural, not like her dark blond that needed a little help.

“What do you do for a living?” Sigrid asked as she switched up her clipper to shave his neck.

Keeping a client happy was the best way to get better tips. Most people in her chair kept up a steady stream without much prompting, falling over themselves to brag about some part of their life. But Fili didn’t nor did he help her resolve where she had seen him. _Why she knew his skin would taste like musk and heat_ …

“Goat farmer.” He told her in a very straight forward manner that she could tell wasn’t a lie. Looking at him in the mirror, she could see the tension was come back in swarms.

Seeking to dispel the storm that was brewing inside him, Sigrid pulled down the back section to cut her guide line. “I read that goats are being used as a more ecological means of keeping land cleared because they eat everything.”

Rubbing into his curls did the trick for he closed his eyes again and his shoulders drooped. Fili would go to sleep if she wasn’t careful. “Precisely. We use a hybrid that looks like a small llama.”

Finding her line and getting him relaxed again, Sigrid started to work. She moved up the crown, holding the line of clipped hair to measure how to cut the next portion. Hair floated away, sliding down his cape to fall to the floor below. The style of the cut came into focus as she continued to the front of his head, leaving a path of curling hair in her wake. Fili leaned his head back as she indicated, almost asleep until the door opened with a clang. He jumped a little but not enough for her to whack the end and mess up.

“Hiya Sigrid!” Legolas the mailman called from the door.

Sigrid gave him a smile but turned back to Fili to see him closed and remote in the chair. His enjoyment of the situation was completely done. His blue eyes flickered in the mirror as the carrier continued to talk to the cashier but look over at Sigrid every once in a while. Legolas wasn’t the type who handled rejection well, but she wasn’t going to share that nugget with someone she barely knew.

“Boyfriend?” His voice was gruff as her mood as she finger combed in some gel to set the riot of curls into waves.

“No.” Sigrid told him as she ran her thumb along the edge of his neck absently, earning a shiver. His shiver rippled into her, making Sigrid almost curse her stupidity. “He’s too pretty for my tastes.”

Fili stopped breathing, his eyes at half-mast. He leaned into her fingers this time like a cat looked for rub. “What are your tastes?”

Sigrid whispered as she met his eyes in the mirror. “I like my blonds a little more… _rugged_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for giving this a try ! 
> 
> I love the idea of a resurrection au.. and this is as close as I have come.. lol.. I have no real experience with cosmetology except what is done to me lol. Any goofs are completely mine..
> 
> Rights are owned by JRRT; I am just playing with the characters.


End file.
